'What's the series going to be about?' Warburton said.
'The whole big thing. China inside out.'
'Will it say something we haven't already heard countless times?'
'There's a very real prospect of some exciting filmclips.'
'Taken from a tall hill in Hong Kong, no doubt.'
'The series will have a definite viewpoint. The stuff I'm getting typed up points that out very clearly.'
'Points what out?'
'That a viewpoint is necessary.'
'What viewpoint?'
'Yeah, what viewpoint?' Quincy said.
'I'm working on that with the State Department. They've been extremely cooperative.'
Warburton said: 'I'd like to quote Kafka at this juncture. 'Every fellow-countryman was a brother for whom one was building a wall of protection, and who would return lifelong thanks for it with all he had and did. Unity! Unity! Shoulder to shoulder, a ring of brothers, a current of blood no longer confined within the narrow circulation of one body, but sweetly rolling and yet ever returning throughout the endless leagues of China.' That, I submit, is your viewpoint.'
'Ted, that's wonderful,' Weede said. 'I think you've really given Reeves something he can sink his teeth into. The part about unity-unity is splendid. It encapsulates all the surging drama of a land mass whose people we can only guess at. Where did you buy that tie?'
'It really sings, Ted. Maybe your girl can type it up for me. That part about the endless leagues of China is almost as good as unity-unity. Might be a title in there somewhere.'
'Might indeed,' Weede Denney said.
The meeting droned on. I watched Warburton's face. No, I could not have mistaken the flicker of mirth that worked at the corners of his mouth. I settled into the twilight, the lagoon, the mineshaft. A pigeon crossed the window ledge, nodding insanely, a fat prim spinster out for a stroll in Providence, Rhode Island, and then a distant boom of demolition sent it cracking into the air. I felt a tremor of pain at my temple. I tried to think of the Christmas shopping I still had to do. I would spend all day Saturday shopping for gifts and wrapping packages. I would buy something for Meredith and her parents; for my father; for Sullivan; for Binky; for my sister Jane and her children in Jacksonville; for three girls I had been seeing on and off; not for B.G. Haines; not for my sister Mary unseen and unheard from in years. I would take extra time and care wrapping the packages intended for Merry's parents and for Jane and her children. (The concept of distances has always stunned me-meridians, latitudes, international datelines; swinging with the arc of the earth, while I am forever stationary, all distant places seem elusive to me, sliding away and under, hard to get mail to. For this reason I have always tended to be over-reverent toward parcels which are destined to travel hundreds or thousands of miles, as if they were carrier pigeons taking secret messages to the plucky guerrillas in the hills.) Then I had a mental picture of my sister Mary. She is sitting in a laundromat in Topeka, Kansas. She is smoking a kingsize filtertip cigarette and waiting for the clothes to dry. She is wearing a gray cotton dress. There was no reason for me to think of her in that particular city or state or place of business, in that gray and whitewashed hell, clothes spiraling like mechanical embryos in experimental bellies, and yet I felt it was a true vision broadcast to me in some extrasensory way. It made me unaccountably sad. The entire left side of my head was radiating with pain. There was another explosion several blocks away. The voices buzzed in and out of dark hives. I looked at his face again. Then, suddenly, it struck me, with all the mindblazing beauty of a brilliant astronomical calculation. Warburton was Trotsky.
'I believe that covers everything,' Weede Denney said. 'I'm taking a big silver bird to the Coast this afternoon. I should be back Wednesday. Any problems, Mrs. Kling knows how to reach me. Have a nice weekend and a pleasant Christmas.'
'Officially sanctioned,' somebody said as a footnote to something.
Weede went into the private toilet adjoining his office. We picked up the paper cups, moved the chairs to their original positions and tidied up in general, reluctant to leave these small tasks to Mrs. Kling, who over the years had managed to become one of the most feared individuals in the company. On the way to my office I stopped by Hallie Lewin's desk and massaged her neck. She was typing a memo marked confidential. I could see that my name was not on the routing list.
'How was the meeting, David?'
'Ended in the usual fistfight. What do you want for Christmas, Hallie?'
'An abortion,' she said.
'What's that you're typing?'
'Get away. You're not supposed to look at that.'
'Is it about me?' I said, moving my hands down her back.
'You're the last person around here who has anything to worry about. Really. I've been hearing good things about you, David.'
I followed Quincy Willet and Jones Perkins down the corridor, snapping my fingers lightly and bouncing on my toes. Quincy needed a haircut.
'Did you hear?' Jones said. 'Merrill hired a Negro. Blaisdell met him yesterday. Said he seems like a nice clean- cut guy.'
'Let's go look at him,' Quincy said.
I went around to my office. Binky followed me in. She wasn't wearing a brassiere, I noticed. She skipped over to the sofa and bounced on it a few times before settling down. She always let out a bit on Friday. I sat behind the desk.
'What's new?' I said.
'Somebody named Wendy Judd called. She wants you to call back.'
'What else?'
'Warren Beasley called. No message.'
'What else?'
'Your father wants you to meet him at the Grand Prix at twelve-thirty.'
'What else?'
'That's all,' she said. 'How was the meeting?'
'Ended in the usual fistfight. Phelps Lawrence didn't show up. I guess they gave him the news already.'
'Have you heard the latest? It's really getting wild.'
'What?' I said.
'Mars Tyler and Reeves Chubb.'
'What about them?'
'The ax.'
'Where'd you hear that?'
'I'm not supposed to tell,' she said.
'Binky baby.'
'Hallie Lewin told me about Reeves. Penny Holton told me about Mars.'
'Who's Penny Holton?'
'Carter Hemmings' secretary.'
'The one with stereophonic tits?'
'David. Don't be crappy now.'
'Her breasts point to opposite ends of the room.'
'Isn't it something though?' Binky said.
'That's not all,' I said. 'Carter Hemmings may be next. It's just a rumor right now so don't say anything.'
'I won't.'
'Also I noticed that Chandler Bates had his door closed when I went by his office just a minute ago. I mentioned it casually to Jody and she said it's been closed all morning.'
'What do you think it means?'
'He's either firing somebody or getting fired himself.'
'It can't be that Chandler's getting fired,' she said. 'He's buddy-buddy with Livingston. He's Livingston's fair- haired boy. Livingston's the one who hired him away from the CBC.'
